The Life and Times of Bradley Watson
by AwkwardVulpix
Summary: The worlds ultimate Pokemon geek finds himself stuck with a problem nobody could have possibly imagined, and has to deal with it, newfound fame, terrorists, and all sorts of other wacky hijinks.
1. Wherein The Setup Is Excessively Convolu

The Life And Times of Bradley Watson

Chapter One

Wherein the setup is excessively convoluted

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I'll be taking a break from the Happy Tree Friends one, and working on this for a while. So, read and enjoy. Oh, and if you want to dare, feel free to. I'm still waiting for your dares.

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Denver, Colorado

June 8th, 2011

5:30 PM

Bradley Watson pulled his car in the driveway after a long day of his job at Modern Engineering. He was simply a tech guy, and never had any success with women, and whenever he looked into a mirror, boy, he could see why. He was way too tall for a twenty-seven year old, and his profile was practically indistinguishable from a broom handle. His hair was an ugly brownish-red color, and never stayed down. His eyes were different colors, blue and green. At this point, he really didn't even bother on dates, since he knew he'd get dumped anyway.

He unlocked the door and walked inside, further reminding him of his loneliness. He was the only person that ever came into his house, really. There was the occasional plumber or cable guy, but those were rare, and he never talked to them, anyway. There was something important in his life, however: Pokemon. He was a colossal Pokemon nerd, and had, in fact, caught them all, since he sprang for a second DSi Lite and a connector cable. Whenever an event came along, he always got online and downloaded everything he could. That, unfortunately, would have to wait. After dinner (Reheated pizza) he would start playing and finish his goal: catching the event legendary of the generation, Victini.

()()()

Denver, Colorado

8:00 PM

After his fine gourmet dinner, along with a rewatch of Rocky Horror Picture Show, Bradley was just getting ready to hunt down, fight, and catch Victini. Since he didn't use online walkthroughs or help sites, viewing them as cheating, he had no way of predicting Victini's strength, and thus decided to play it safe, by using five other event legendaries he particularly liked: Mew, Celebi, Jirachi, Manaphy, and Shaymin. Respectively, they were named Emily, Jon, Riley, Shannon, and Amelia. He already decided that he'd name the Victini Paul, and put him in the team to test him out. After giving the Liberty Ticket to the correct person, he went into the area where Victini could be found, and started looking for the creature.

()()()

Denver, Colorado

7:30

"Come on, this is my last ultra ball!" Said Bradley. He hadn't anticipated the fight would be this difficult, and he already had to reload several times. He threw the ball, hoping this would be the one. One shake. Two shakes. Time seemed to stop as he waited for the third. After what seemed like hours, it finally came. He jumped from the couch, enraptured with joy. "Yes! Yes! I did it!" The game prompted him for a nickname. "You are now…" he typed in the name, "Paul!" He pressed okay, and it was so. After adding Paul to the rest of the team, he heard a very loud clap of thunder. He had gotten so into his game, he hadn't noticed the thunderstorm brewing outside.

"Thunder? When did that happen?" He shrugged, and turned the game off (After saving, of course).

"I'll try you out tomorrow, Paul!" He walked out of the room, turned the lights off, and started getting ready for bed.

()()()

Geneva, Switzerland

June 9th, 2011

Large Hadron Collider

9:00 AM

(Note: Due to the location of Geneva, there is an eight-hour difference between it and Denver. Due to the current timeframe, this would mean that it is, in fact, the next day in Geneva. 9:00 in Geneva would be about 1:00 in Denver, as such.)

In the last few weeks, the scientists at CERN had been preparing for another particle collision. They had yet to find the Higgs Boson Particle, and were trying yet again.

"Preparing collision," said one scientist.

"Magnets are go," said another.

The first scientist brought his mouse cursor over a particular button on the computer. "Accelerating particles in three…two…one…" He clicked it, sending out two streams of subatomic particles, which were immediately accelerated to high speeds by the magnets in the colossal tube, approaching the final goal, the fastest speed possible: ninety-nine point nine percent of the speed of light.

"One percent… two percent…" the computerized voice blared. This would take a while.

()()()

Geneva, Switzerland

Large Hadron Collider

10:00 AM

"Ninety-nine percent." The computerized voice said. "Ninety-nine point nine percent. Preparing collision." By now, the streams were zooming around the tube several times a second, awaiting the final collision. The scientist brought his mouse to the button that said "Collide", clicked it, and it was so. The other scientists immediately started searching for the elusive particle. However, they didn't notice another new kind of particle zip past the collision site and through the tubing, since it was so fast. It started heading around the world at near the speed of light, converging on one destination.

()()()

Denver, Colorado

2:00 PM

(Due to the eight-hour difference, this was happening at exactly the same time as the collision.)

As it turns out, Bradley had rather poor luck, because he just missed one of the rarest observed sights in nature. No, not Britney Spears actually singing in concert. It was ball lighting, you fool. Anyway, the sphere of high-energy plasma entered his house, burning a hole through a window, and started floating about. By extreme coincidence, the particle from earlier was heading for the house, or more specifically, the DS he left on the table. The ball lightning headed for the DS as well, and ended up colliding with the particle right on top of it. A massive, albeit silent, explosion of light occurred, and six figures emerged from it…

()()()

Denver, Colorado

June 9th, 2011

6:45 AM

After a deep sleep, Bradley Watson was awoken by a cold nose to the face. That's odd, he thought. I don't have any pets. Did a stray get in? No, I closed the door. He opened his eyes, and saw it: A white dog-like creature, with a large green tuft of fur on it's head, more green fur on its paws, and two large, antler-like ears. It was, in fact, a Shaymin.

Bradley, unfazed, closed his eyes and tried to go back to sleep. Then he realized exactly what this thing was, and jumped out of the bed, screaming, and simultaneously flinging the poor creature to the other side of the room. Scrambling to his feet and pulling off a bunch of sheets, he immediately started bombarding the animal with questions.

"How…what the Hell? How the Hell are you here? Is this some kind of trick?" By now, he was starting to back away, trying not to provoke whatever it was that was standing in front of him right now. "Okay. Okay. This is clearly just a dream. You do not exist, and to prove it, I will run headfirst into this wall." He stepped back, and did just that. Almost immediately, pain burst through his head, sending him to the floor. Several minutes later, he got back up, holding his throbbing head.

"All right, I'm hallucinating, then." To prove this theory, he walked over to the Shaymin and picked it up. After turning it around a few times, he was convinced that it was real.

"Oh man, this is crazy." He fell on his bed, his hands over his face. "This is just…oh man."

The Shaymin jumped on the bed, and nuzzled his cheek. "Thanks. Wait a second…oh no!" He suddenly remembered his Pokemon game, and also realized that was the only place that this Shaymin could have possibly come from. He leaped from the bed, opened the door, and ran to his living room. When he got there, he stopped dead in his tracks. Someone- or rather, something- had turned on the TV and started watching his movies. Right now, the film was _Terminator_.

Inching his way slowly to the couch, he looked over and saw what looked like a cross between a fennec fox and a chicken; in other words, Victini. "Hey, little guy," he said in a somewhat high-pitched voice, waving his hand and trying to retain a semblance of composure. "You watching Terminator?" He slowly moved his hand to the DS, picked it up, and turned it on. Immediately, he looked at his Pokemon team. They were still there. "Whew!" he exclaimed. The Victini looked at him with an odd look on his face, vaguely disturbed by his seemingly random display of happiness.

7:00 AM

After searching through the remainder of the house, along with the backyard, he ended up finding four more. Shaymin and Victini you already know, a Celebi and a Mew were loitering in the kitchen, a Manaphy was sleeping in the basement, and a Jirachi was floating harmlessly in the backyard. After getting them all in the living room, he started asking them questions.

"Do any of you understand English?" As it turns out, all of them understood it, but only the Shaymin could speak it, by way of telepathy.

"Okay, you," He said gesturing towards the Jirachi, "Could you get them to speak English?"

A bright wave of energy erupted from the wishmaker, bathing the room in light. When Bradley opened his eyes back up, nothing seemed to have changed, but he continued asking questions.

"Do any of you have names?" They gave him the names, predictably the same ones as in his game, but to his shock, they all had British accents.

"What?" Shouted Amelia, the Shaymin. "That ain't right!" She turned to the Jirachi, Riley. "Riley, what in the bloody Hell did you just do?"

"Well, he said English…"

Almost perfectly on cue, the rest of the legendaries yelled at him, "HE MEANT AMERICAN ENGLISH, YOU BLOODY IDIOT!"

"Well, gee, I'm sorry he wasn't specific about it!"

Bradley was getting tired of this, and stepped in. "No, no, British is perfectly fine.

"Okay, I have to get ready for work, so just, uh, do whatever, and don't burn the place down.

8:30 AM

After going through his morning routine, Bradley was ready to leave for work.

"Alright, bye, guys!"

"Bye!" All of them said.

After driving away, Bradley looked in the mirror and said to himself, "Well, that was a weird morning."

()()()

Well, there you have it, folks. Read, review, and leave a dare on the Truth or Dare I'm working on.


	2. Wherein An Accident Occurs

The Life and Times of Bradley Watson

Chapter Two

Wherein an Accident Occurs

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AwkwardVulpix here. I'd just like to note I'm taking a break from Happy Tree Friends: the New Series, and working on this for a while.

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The Modern Engineering building is not only the tallest building in Denver, it's one of the tallest in the country. At a magnificent seventy stories high, it dominates the skyline, and with good reason, since Modern Engineering is easily the most successful technology company since Windows and Apple. The building itself is a giant testament to modern construction, making use of large glass panels, no sharp angles, and high-tensile titanium girders. Bradley Watson worked on the twentieth floor, primarily on function coding; however, when the need arose, he also did bug reporting. After parking in his spot, Bradley walked in the door. The main lobby was large, taking up most of the first floor. The chandelier was made out of about fifteen hundred artificial diamonds. Every time Bradley saw it, he was still impressed. After a bit of pointless small talk with the secretary, he signed in, went to the elevator, put in the appropriate floor number, and waited.

One crappy muzak rendition of Eine Kleine Nachtmusik later…

"I hate elevator music," thought Bradley as he got out on his floor. On the way, he ran into his rival, Steven Leonard.

"Oh, hey Bradley. You look distressed. Is something wrong?"

"Oh, yeah, uh…"

Steven put his hand up. "Did I say I cared?"

"…No?"

"Good answer. Why don't you go do your job?"

"Anything to get away from his Highness King Douchebag."

"Go back to thy hut, knave."

"Oh, hardy har har." Bradley left, and settled into his cubicle. It was mostly bare, since he was such a loner; the only things were his computer, a trashcan, and some of his employee of the month awards. The only person in his department that had as many as he did was, in fact, Steven. After logging in, he started to work on the Conway Project, the company's latest virus protection program. Before he could get anywhere, though, a message came over on the intercom. It was the department manager, Mr. Ruthers.

"Will Bradley Watson please report to my office?"

"That's odd," he thought, "I didn't do anything wrong, did I?"

He got up anyway, left the cubicle, and started heading for Mr. Ruthers' office, still wondering why he called him.

Peeking his head in the wooden doors, he asked, "You wanted me, sir?"

"Yes, yes, please sit down." Mr. Ruthers was older, nearly sixty. He was almost completely bald, and what little hair he had left was totally gray.

"You're aware that last month you got the Employee of the Month award?"

"Yes, I am."

"Well, that was the fifth one you got in a row, and you know what that means!"

Bradley's face darkened. "You take me out for dinner."

"Exactly! How about tonight? I'll pick you up at six, you choose the restaurant."

"I'm, er, afraid that can't work out tonight."

"Oh, why not?"

"Uh…well, you see…um…"

"I see. You don't want to go to dinner with me."

"No! That's not it at all!" Said Bradley defensively.

"Well then, I'll see you tonight at six!"

"Uh, great." Said Bradley unconvincingly.

With this knowledge, he left the office, thinking something along the lines of, "Oh crap, I'm so screwed." However, he wasn't aware that Steven had set up a little prank while he was gone. Since he was so caught up in his thoughts, he didn't notice the tripwire, or the can of Silly String. Naturally he stepped on it, and was immediately bombarded with a spray of foam. A few cubicles down, a cruel laugh rang out.

Bradley sighed, and got back to work.

5:30

The rest of the day had passed without anything else notable happening, and Bradley headed home. He pulled into the driveway. He was so fixated on the fact that his boss was coming over, he forgot to unlock the door and walked right into it. This broke his concentration, and he realized what the problem was. After unlocking the door properly, he walked in. "Hello?" he called. The only answer was a toilet flushing. "Well, I'm glad they figured that out." He thought aloud. Then Paul walked into the room. "You called? I was using the john."

"Yeah, where is everybody?"

"They're in the basement, playing poker."

"Oh, okay. Uh, could you tell them to stay in the basement for tonight? My boss is coming over and I don't want him to see you guys."

"Oh, okay. Well then, we'll stay out of your business. When is he coming over?"

"About six."

"Well, I'll tell the guys, and you just get ready."

()()()

6:00

At precisely six o'clock, the doorbell rang. After Bradley answered it, proving it was Mr. Ruthers, he was immediately asked a question.

"Where will we be going?"

"Uh…well…"

"I see, you didn't make proper arrangements." Mr. Ruthers hugged him, and joyously said, "Thank you! Every other time I've done this, I've gone to some fancy-ass restaurant that kills my wallet for tiny little portions! Finally somebody comes along that'll just let me order a pizza, get some beer, and watch a movie! Thank you!"

"Uh…I guess I'll order a pizza, then."

"I'll get some beer. Do you have Terminator?"

"Uh, yeah, I think it's on the lowest shelf in the left cabinet."

7:05

By the time they had gotten the pizza, set up the movie, and opened the beer, they were only about to the part where the Terminator first confronts Sarah Connor. However, right at the part where she screamed, another, very similar scream came from behind them.

"I didn't know you had surround sound, Bradley."

"I don't." Suddenly, Bradley realized where the scream had to have come from, and started thinking of a way to distract Mr. Ruthers.

"What the hell is that over there!" He yelled, pointing nowhere in particular.

"What?" While Mr. Ruthers was looking for the nonexistent object, Bradley jumped over the back of the couch and ran for the basement.

"Bradley, I don't see anything. Bradley?" Mr. Ruthers realized that Bradley was gone, and started looking for him, after pausing the movie, of course.

()()()

When Bradley opened the basement door, he was immediately met with a horrible sight: Paul and Amelia lying unconscious on the floor, large gashes on their heads. It was all he could do to not vomit.

"Oh no, oh no…what the hell happened?"

Shannon started explaining the course of events to him. "We were playing poker, and Paul thought Riley was cheating, Amelia started arguing with him and they got really mad at each other, then she tried to push him off, but they _both _fell off of the table, and they banged their heads on that wooden box," she gestured to a crate of old books, "and, well…"

"Oh, God damn it!" Bradley yelled.

Suddenly, a voice came from behind him. "Bradley, just what in the hell is going on here?"

Bradley wheeled around, and saw his boss.

"Oh, crap. Okay, listen, I'll explain everything to you later, but I need your help. See those two animals lying on the ground?"

"Yeah."

"Well, they're really hurt. You carry one of them up the stairs and I'll get the other one. We'll put them on the couch, and then I'll call the vet to get help. Okay?"

"Okay."

()()()

7:06

"Hi, is this the Denver Veterinary Hospital?" Asked Bradley.

"Yes."

"Listen, I have two, uh, pets with really bad injuries, and I really need a doctor here as soon as possible."

"Okay, where are you?"

"Uh…314 Summit Avenue."

"We should have a doctor over in a few minutes."

"Oh, thank God. Uh, bye." He hung up. "He'll be here soon."

"I'm sure they'll be fine, Bradley."

He sighed. "Yeah, you're probably right. I guess we'll just have to wait and see."

()()()

7:16

There came a knock at the door.

"It's the doctor," Said Bradley, "I'll get it."

He opened the door, and saw him: a middle-aged, balding man, with a nametag that said "Doctor Bill".

"Hello." He said. "Where are they?"

"They're on the couch." Said Bradley.

"Good, good." When he walked over and saw them for the first time, the shock was so great he stopped dead in his tracks.

"Uh…what, exactly, _are_ they?"

"I'll explain later."

"I see. Hm…" He was looking at the injuries, and had noticed something quite fascinating. "That's odd."

"What?" Asked Bradley.

"Well, the cut goes down to the bone, but I don't see any fracture damage. At worst, I'd say it's just a concussion." He stood up. "I'll have to take them to the hospital to treat them. Do you mind?"

"No, not at all. Just…try to keep this a secret, really hush-hush, you know?"

"Of course." On this note, he left, taking the two strange creatures with him. Bradley quickly jumped into his car and followed.

7:40

A while later, the doctor came out of the back room.

"How are they?" Bradley asked, concerned.

"Perfectly fine. Just a very slight concussion, and of course the gashes. They should recover fairly quickly if they don't move around too much for the next few days."

"Ah, good, good."

"Now, of course, there's the issue of payment."

"Oh, don't worry, I can pay for it."

"Well," Said Dr. Bill, "Just give me your address, and we'll send you the bill."

"Well, then, uh…" He picked a pen from the table, and wrote down the necessary information. "There."

"Great. Well, I suppose we'll see you in a few weeks to remove the stitches. And remember, occasional checkups are good for any pet, even…yours."

"Bye."

"Bye!" Bradley left, driving back home.

()()()

After Bradley left, Dr. Bill immediately got on the phone with the Denver News Team.

"Hello?"

"Hello, this is the Denver News Station, how may we help you?"

"I have the story of the century here, listen…"

()()()

So yeah, the second chapter. As you can tell, I won't be updating as frequently, since I just started high school. So, leave a review, I suppose. Oh, and go leave a dare on my Truth or Dare fic! I haven't gotten any yet; could you be the first?

.


	3. Wherein Some Wacky Hijinks Happen

The Life and Times of Bradley Watson

Chapter Three

In Which Many Wacky Hijinks Ensue

()()()

Greetings, AwkwardVulpix here. Leave a dare, please. I haven't gotten any yet, and I really do want to write all these characters interacting with each other and performing the stuff you tell them to. So, please leave your dare, and let me write the next chapter.

()()()

At 7:00 AM, Bradley Watson was rudely awakened for the second day in a row. However, rather than an animal rubbing it's nose on his face, it was a nosy reporter knocking on his door. "What the…" he asked groggily. Slowly getting out of bed, he rubbed his eyes, and threw on some clothes. Another knock came at the door. "I'm coming, I'm coming." He yelled. Finally, he opened the door, and said, "Yes?"

The man was about as old as Bradley, but about a foot sorter. "Hello, I'm from the Denver News Team. Mind if I come in?"

Bradley suddenly remembered he never moved Amelia and Paul from the couch. "Uh, I don't think that you should…" But alas, it was too late. The reporter and the cameraman had already seen them.

"Damn!" Cried the reporter. "Are you getting this! You saw it here first, folks! This man has discovered two animal species completely unlike anything ever seen in nature! This is truly incredible! You," he asked Bradley, "How did you come across this incredible discovery?"

"Listen, I'm really not comfortable with you being here!"

"Is this genuine, or is it some elaborate hoax?"

"Get out of my house!"

"Excuse me, I have freedom of the press. And since I'm the press, I have every right to report this."

"Not if I don't want you to! Get the hell out of my house!" He started pushing them towards the door.

"We already have the footage!"

Bradley shoved them out and closed the door. Just then, he realized what the reporter had said, and ran back to the door. When he opened it, he saw that they had already left in the van. "Damn it!" he yelled.

The swear was so loud, it awoke Paul. Amelia, though, was a heavy sleeper, and remained unconscious. "What did I miss?"

"Uh, nothing, nothing!" Bradley said, quite unconvincingly.

"All right, be honest."

"Okay, okay. Some guys from the news came over and…"

"WHAT! We can't be on the news! If people know about us, everything is going to go to…"

Paul's scream had awoken Amelia, and she interrupted before he could finish his swear. "What? What happened now?"

"Oh, nothing much. Just that this idiot here BLEW OUR COVER!"

"Whatever." She laid back down. And then, a few seconds later, screamed, "WHAT! YOU MORON!"

"Okay, okay, I'm sorry! Jeez!"

Paul buried his face in his hands. "We're screwed. The government's going to find out about us, take us to some base in the middle of nowhere, and then strap us to an operating table and cut our organs out!"

"Calm down, Paul! The government won't hurt you!"

"I saw ET! I know what they do to things like us!"

Bradley was getting really frustrated by now. "SHUT UP! JUST SHUT UP!"

"Uh, calm down there, Bradley." Said Paul, stepping backwards.

Bradley took a few deep breaths. "Sorry, sorry. I'm…I'm just going to get ready for work." And for the rest of the morning, he did just that.

()()()

8:00

"Hi, Bradley," said the secretary.

"Hi, Ethel," Bradley said, quite rudely. He rushed to the elevator, pressed the button, and never once made eye contact with anybody.

"Who pissed in his corn flakes?" Asked Steven, who was walking in right behind him.

"I've never seen him like this," said Ethel.

()()()

When Bradley got to the top floor, whom did he see but Mr. Ruthers, coming out of the other elevator.

"Ah, Bradley! Interesting night last night, eh?"

Bradley glared at him.

"W-what's wrong, Bradley?"

"Why did you call the news department?" He asked menacingly.

"Wha- news department! I didn't call the news! What do you take me for!"

"Well, _somebody_ called the news station."

After thinking for a few seconds, they arrived at the same conclusion. In unison, they said, "Doctor Bill."

"That son of a bitch." Said Bradley. He walked to his cubicle, and picked up the phone. After dialing the number, he waited for the secretary to answer. When she did, he immediately asked for Doctor Bill. After a few moments, the doctor got on the line.

"Hello?"

"WHY DID YOU CALL THE NEWS STATION?" Bradley yelled.

"Oh! B-Bradley! Uh…I can explain! See, I thought that, uh, well, you see…oh, forget it. I thought I could get some recognition, you know?"

"Oh, you piece of…listen. Do you know what these things can do?"

"Uh…no, not really."

"Well, there are four more of them. One of them can _time travel_, another can grant wishes…not very well, I admit, but he's trying, and then there are two others that are just really dangerously powerful. Get it?"

Doctor Bill realized the full implications of what he had done. "Oh, man, Bradley, I'm so sorry!"

"It's a little late for that! By tomorrow, I'm going to be the most famous person in Denver! That isn't something I want! Goodbye!" He slammed the phone on the receiver. "Damn it!" He said, resting his face on his hand. That was when Steven walked in. "Hey Bradley, why the long face?" He asked sarcastically.

"Steven, you wouldn't believe me if I told you. But mark my words: in a few days, I'm going to be one of the most famous people in Colorado."

Steven stifled a laugh. "Right, and I'm going to replace Harrison Ford in the next Indiana Jones sequel." Steven left, walking to his own cubicle.

Bradley sighed, and got to work.

()()()

Later in the day, Bradley wanted to see the status of the story, or if it was even on the Denver News site at all. He loaded up the Internet, waited for it to load, and went to the Denver News website. Sure enough, there was the story. "Oh, crap." He had just noticed the hit counter. If he was drinking something, you can be sure he would have done a violent spit-take. Since this morning, over three hundred thousand people had looked at it. The story was there, as was the video footage, proving the story was true. "Oh, crap, crap, crap." Bradley buried his face in his hands. "Oh, we're f…"

()()()

After yet another boring day at work, he came home to find something very surprising: a large crowd of news reporters, waiting on his lawn, presumably for him. Almost the instant he opened the car door, he was met with a colossal barrage of questions and camera flashes.

"Where did you find these creatures?"

"What are they?"

"What injury did they suffer?"

"How were you able to capture them and get help afterwards?"

The senses were so overwhelming that Bradley could barely get inside the house and shut the door.

"Oh, crap." He said, sliding down to the floor. Pushing aside the curtain ever so slightly, he looked outside to get a better view. What he saw was shocking. Not only was the Denver News Team there, but several other large news stations, including MSNBC, Fox News, and several others. "Damn!" he whispered to himself.

He had no idea what to do. "Come on, Bradley, think, think!" He got an idea. After locking the door, he ran to the bedroom, thinking that if he could run out of the back of the house, he could get away and wait it out. Quickly opening the window, he clambered outside…right into a bramble bush. "Argh! Damn it!" He stood back up; thankful that nothing actually cut him, just poked. He ran towards the street, jumping over his neighbor's fence and rushing through the backyard. Unfortunately for him, one of the reporters on the far edge of the mass noticed him out of the corner of his eye, and yelled, "There he is!" Immediately, the crowd of reporters ran towards him. Leaping over the same fence, and rushing through the same backyard, they all rushed after Bradley, in one giant, screaming mass. Bradley, thinking as quickly as he could, turned left and ran through another lawn. The reporters followed suit, or at least tried to; they were so tightly packed that when they tried to turn around, they tipped each other over, sending them crashing to the pavement. Bradley continued running, and eventually got back to his house. "Oh, man." He had just realized that every day was going to be like this. Well, at least he'd get a good workout. Or maybe he'd just call the cops. That would probably be easier. He unlocked the door, walked in, and made _meticulously _sure that it was shut and locked behind him. That would only keep them busy for a few minutes at best, so he tried to continue with his evening routine. Little did he realize that tomorrow, he'd have something even worse on his hands…

()()()

Next chapter up soon STOP try to be patient STOP leave a dare please STOP I'm typing like this because I think it's funny STOP even though it clearly isn't in the slightest STOP doing that it's really annoying STOP well, now the telegraph's pissed at me STOP that seriously it's getting old STOP oh shut the hell up STOP AwkwardVulpix over and out STOP.


	4. In Which Bradley Is Robbed

The Life and Times of Bradley Watson, Chapter Four

Wherein Bradley Is Robbed

()()()

Yet again, Bradley was awoken rudely by a loud bumping noise. "I don't even need a damn alarm clock anymore, do I?" he thought as he got out of bed.

What he saw in the living room surprised him. A tall, burly man had bumped into his television, and was carrying Paul and Amelia. The man noticed Bradley, and ran out of the door. "Hey! Dude! Stop!" Bradley yelled, chasing after him. He managed to quickly catch up with him, but the man happened to be very strong, and punched Bradley in the face, sending him straight to the sidewalk, yelling a virulent series of oaths. The man continued running to a black van, while Bradley crawled back to the house. The man put Paul and Amelia in the back of the van and walked to the front. After he got in, the van sped off.

About one minute later, Bradley had managed to get back inside and pick up the phone. He immediately called Modern Engineering. Naturally, nobody was there at that hour, so he just got the answering machine. "Hey, Ethel, this is Bradley. Could you tell Mr. Ruthers I'm going to be late today?" He hung up, walked to the garage, and started his car.

()()()

Meanwhile, in the van, Paul had just woken up.

"Huh?" He looked around. "Where in the bloody hell am I?" He shook Amelia, waking her.

"I didn't do it!" She yelled.

"What the…" Said the tall man. He looked in the back, seeing that they were awake. "You speak English?"

"Yeah." Said Paul.

The man turned around and continued driving. "Okay then."

()()()

As the tall man was trying to understand what was happening, Bradley was trailing him from far behind. "Alright, time to get them back." He sped up.

The tall man quickly saw him in the sideview mirror. "Him again!" He sped up as well, flinging Paul and Amelia to the back of the van. They weren't hurt, however, and now Paul was angry.

"That's it!" He attempted to focus his psychic abilities on the tall man, but the injury started to hurt, and he couldn't do it properly. "Ah, ow, ow," he said, gripping his head. Shaking it off, he tried again. This time, he managed to start a small fire on the man's sleeve before he started hurting again.

"What the…fire? FIRE! HOLY CRAP I'M ON FIRE!" He let go of the wheel and started patting the flame. Very quickly, the car veered wildly off course, onto somebody's lawn. Just before he hit the house itself, he grabbed the wheel and veered to the left.

"What the hell is going on down there?" Bradley wondered.

The tall man was very tense now, and was taking deep breaths to calm himself down. After a few seconds, he felt okay again…until the police car pulled him over.

"Ah, damn it."

"Sir, what the hell did you think you were doing?" Asked the cop.

"Uh…well, you see…" The tall man turned away from the cop for a moment, before turning around and punching him in the face. As the policeman was rolling on the ground in pain, the tall man sped off. Just seconds later, Bradley pulled up right next to the cop.

After Bradley rolled down the window, he asked, "What the hell happened?"

"He punched me in the face!"

"Well, just a few minutes ago, he stole my…pets!"

"Hey, wait a second…you're that guy that was on the news the other day!"

Bradley sighed. "Yes. That's me."

"Whoa! My son recognized those things instantly! He's a huge fan of Pokemon, you know."

"Yeah. I'll bet."

"Anyway, my name is Officer Holmes. Could you follow me, please? I'll need a witness."

"Eh, sure. May as well."

Upon this agreement, Officer Holmes got back in his car, and both of them drove off, trailing the thief.

()()()

About twenty minutes later, the tall man parked in front of an old apartment building. A sign in the front said it was to be demolished tomorrow. He got out, walked to the back of the van, pulled out Paul and Amelia (His reckless driving had knocked them out again), and rushed to the front door. Not thirty seconds after that, Bradley and Officer Holmes pulled up at the same apartment building. Officer Holmes got out, and walked in. Bradley waited.

()()()

When Officer Holmes got inside, the man was already on the third floor, just two floors below the roof. "Freeze!" he yelled. The man looked down, and continued running. Officer Holmes started running up the stairs as well.

The apartment building, however, was very old and decrepit; the man didn't see the sign outside, and was running up the stairs with reckless abandon. When he landed on one step, much to his surprise, his foot burst through the staircase. Panicking, he let go of Paul and pulled himself up with the railing. Pretty much abandoning Paul, he continued running up, ducking into room 21, locking the door behind him.

When Officer Holmes got up to the same room, he kicked in the door, sending it and several smaller shards of wood into the room. He pulled out his gun, preparing for anything. In his head, he ran through the man's crimes one more time: robbery, assaulting a cop, resisting arrest…quite a few things, actually. Anyway, the tall man had ran into the bedroom, and was standing in front of an old mattress.

Officer Holmes saw him, just standing there, and dived towards him. Quickly, the man ducked and, using the officer's own momentum against him, stood back up, throwing Officer Holmes onto the mattress.

What the hadn't anticipated was that the force of Officer Holmes landing on the mattress, combined with the poor building quality, would do any serious damage. A low cracking noise came from the floor. Just seconds before disaster struck, the man leapt onto the mattress as well, still holding Amelia, adding their weight to the floor. Wouldn't you know it, the floor broke away underneath them, sending them screaming into the room below.

When they landed, both of them rolled off of the mattress, Amelia still in the man's arms. Just after they stood up, a similar cracking noise as before came from the floor, and they rushed out of the room. Right behind them, the floor crashed away, sending the mattress to the next floor, to repeat the cycle. The two men looked at each other for a few seconds, before the tall man punched Officer Holmes in the face and ran away. After Officer Holmes got back up, he continued chasing after him, only this time, one floor lower.

()()()

Seconds later, the tall man had gotten to the stairwell leading to the roof. He opened the door, ran out…and stopped dead in his tracks. There was nowhere to go. The fire escape had long ago fallen away (one of many reasons the building was being destroyed), and from five stories up, a jump was pretty much suicide. While contemplating his predicament, Officer Holmes walked up behind him.

"It's the end of the line," he said.

"Oh, really? Well, uh…"

What neither of them noticed was that Amelia had woken back up. Looking at her surroundings, she had no clue where she was, and so she just went with instinct. She began pulling thin, black plumes of pollution from the air, readying her signature attack: Seed Flare. By the time either of them noticed, it was too late. She bit the tall man on the arm, distracting him and forcing him to let her go. She ran between the two of them and released all the energy she had absorbed, in the form of a deafening explosion. Both Officer Holmes and the tall man were now totally incapacitated. She continued running, off the edge of the roof. Slowly gliding down on her large ears, she landed on the sidewalk and passed out from the exertion. Bradley immediately picked her up and set her down in the car.

On the roof, the tall man was slowly, groggily getting up to his feet. He ran-excuse me, limped- to the stairwell, and clambered inside, locking the door. When Officer Holmes got back up, he discovered the door was locked tight, and muttered, "Oh, that's just wonderful."

As he was making his way back down, the tall man noticed Paul lying on the staircase. "Well, at least I got something out of this," he thought, picking him back up. He was able to get back to the bottom of the building without much trouble…okay, I lied. He fell through another section of staircase on the way down, repeating the earlier sequence of events, but this time, he actually bothered to take Paul with him.

()()()

When the tall man came back outside, Bradley knew immediately that Officer Holmes had failed to apprehend the thief. The tall man got into his van with Paul, and sped off.

Bradley stayed parked for a while, but eventually, after much careful deliberation, he muttered, "Not on my watch," gunned the engine, and sped after him.

_TO BE CONTINUED…  
_()()()

Yeah, short chapter, sorry about that. I promise the next one is going to have all sorts of car-chasey goodness. Oh, and to a Mr. "Dodectron": I've sent you a PM. It contains an explanation of what I meant by dares, and what to do if you wish to give me one. If you could tell some other people about me, (And the info in the PM) that would be great. AwkwardVulpix, over and out.


	5. In Which There Is A Car Chase

The Life and Times of Bradley Watson

Chapter Five

In Which There is a Car Chase

()()()

Even though the tall man had taken great care to ensure his success, he hadn't accounted for the multiple variables that introduced themselves into the equation. By now, he had only been able to salvage one of the animals he had kidnapped, but he knew he could get a decent price for…whatever this thing was. Maybe he could sell it to some foreign army. However, there was another variable he had failed to think of: Bradley continuing after him.

"What…oh no. Oh, no, no, no." He said, looking in his side mirror. He slammed his foot on the gas pedal and turned into an alleyway. He was still looking in the mirror, and saw that Bradley hadn't followed him. What he didn't see was the trashcans in front of him. Immediately upon collision, they flew to the side, spreading garbage all over the alley. The man reeled back, thinking something would hit him. In his distraction, he almost drove into a dumpster. Seconds before disaster struck, he swerved to the side. In his turn, though, he chipped part of the taillight.

Bradley, in the meantime, had simply driven around the alley and waited at the end of it. When the man drove out, he immediately continued the chase.

()()()

"Why can't I shake this guy!" yelled the tall man. He had been able to outrun him so far, but even so, Bradley wasn't giving up. By chance, the man glanced to the left, and saw an opportunity: a construction site for an apartment building. Taking a (very, very stupid) risk, he crashed through the metal gate at the front, narrowly avoiding two workers, and veered about the site. A man operating a crane, confused as to what was going on, leaned towards the van. As he did, he accidentally pushed down on the control lever, sending the hook downwards. It smashed through a pile of sheetrock, and landed on the ground. The tall man deftly swerved around it; however, in this effort, he knocked over a steel beam, the first in a long row of steel beams. You can probably imagine where this predictable gag is going. Indeed, the series of beams tipped over like so many dominoes; at the end of the line, a man was just barely able to make it out of the way. Uncaring, the tall man drove through another gate.

Soon after crashing through the second gate, the man looked to the left and saw that Bradley was still following him, albeit on a different street.

"Damn it!" he screamed, slamming the steering wheel. However, this also activated the horn, which was loud enough to wake up Paul.

"What the…where…who?" Paul asked incoherently. A wave of realization hit him, and, powered by his blind fury, he ran to the front of the van, leapt onto the tall man's head, and started clawing at him.

"AHH! OH GOD!" The man screamed. Distracted by the pain, he veered to the right, towards a magazine stand.

Inside said stand, the person manning it was reading a copy of _National Geographic,_ blissfully unaware of the van hurtling towards him at about sixty miles per hour. It sped ever closer, careening towards its destructive destination…

At the very last second, the tall man veered hard left, narrowly avoiding the stand and trashing a large pile of newspapers instead. Unfazed, the man in the stall turned to the next page, fascinated by the next stupid theory about evolution or something like that.

In the van, Paul and the tall man were still fighting. Although the tall man was quite strong, Paul was stronger still, and refused to release his grip. Unbeknownst to either of them, they were now heading directly towards a grocery store.

()()()

Inside the grocery store, an employee was just putting the last can on a large pyramid display of hundreds of other fake cans. "Careful…careful…" He thought he heard an odd noise, something like screeching tires. He looked around, didn't see anything, and continued. Just then, the van smashed through the automatic doors, sending shards of glass everywhere. Naturally, it collided with the unfinished pyramid, sending a very large portion tumbling to the ground. As the van continued veering madly about, the gaping employee simply dropped the can onto the pile.

Not many people were in the grocery store at this early hour. Most of them were in the café, eating breakfast or having a coffee with ten different words in the name. However, that was exactly where the van was headed. When they saw the van hurtling towards them, the customers ran from their chairs to safety, followed by the employees. The van burst through, wrecking tables and sending napkin boxes flying. Due to the speed of the van, it was also able to crash through the front counter. Countless pastries were thrown about and smashed against the front of the van. It continued on its destructive path, blasting through an emergency exit door. The impact was great enough to knock Paul off of the man's head, and knock him out as well.

On its way out, however, something very unfortunate happened. A biker gang was outside, smoking questionable substances. One of the members had parked his motorcycle in a place that, when the van burst from the emergency exit, was directly in the van's path. The van hit the motorcycle, flinging it quite a long distance away and mangling it quite violently.

"What the fu…he trashed my ride!" yelled one of them, the owner of the motorcycle.

"Oh, that piece of…get him!" Said another. Almost as one, the group, excluding the man who now lacked a motorcycle, got on theirs and chased after the van.

Now, at this point, I would just like to note that I would have included two men riding penny-farthings, but that would have made the entire thing far too silly, and I would have been forced to get a colonel to put a stop to it. Anyway, continuing on.

After about another minute, Bradley, the tall man, and the biker gang had all managed to catch up. The tall man, having gotten Paul off of his head, was now able to think more clearly. He pulled into a parking garage and started heading up. At about the third story, he was at the same height as a building next to the garage. Pulling up next to the divider, he picked up Paul, got out, and leapt to the roof of the other building. When the other group got up to the same level, the tall man yelled, "Come get me now, suckers!" Bradley was not too keen on the idea of leaping over a gap like that. The biker gang, however, had other ideas. They all climbed up the divider wall and jumped to the next building over.

However, the tall man had another method of escape. More specifically, a fire escape ladder. He climbed onto it and ran down the staircase. The gang followed suit, rushing after him. The man ran out to the sidewalk. He looked left, then right. Making his decision, he went…forward. By now, they were within a block of the Modern Engineering building. The man ran to the building, still holding Paul. After opening the door, he ran inside, heading towards the elevator. Just then, the biker gang ran in. The tall man panicked, and ran towards a back exit.

After running out, he ran to the left, towards a side alley. He jumped into a dumpster and waited for the gang to pass. When they did, he jumped out and ran back to the parking garage. He took the elevator to the appropriate floor and ran to the van. Bradley was so surprised he was unable to react in time before the tall man got in his van and sped off, planning to go to the Denver Park.

()()()

About twenty minutes later, he arrived at his destination.

"Okay," he thought, "If I can just get to that one place, I'll be home free!" However, two policemen were in the park, having received notice of a man in a black van that had robbed a man, assaulted a cop, and resisted arrest. When they saw the black van driving down the path, they immediately jumped to the conclusion that this was the man they were talking about, and yelled, "POLICE! STOP YOUR VEHICLE!" while pulling out their guns. The tall man panicked and swerved to the left, into an artificial river. The policemen crossed a nearby bridge and ran to the other side. "Step out with your hands up!" They said. The man complied. Upon exit, the police immediately recognized him as…

"Jonathan Wentworth. You've got quite a track record, haven't you?" While he was saying this, Bradley pulled up his car. He stepped out, and asked, "Who is this?"

"Jonathan Wentworth. He steals rare and exotic pets and sells them for high prices. We've been looking for this guy for quite some time."

"Well, that isn't all. You might want to add destruction of public property onto his charges."

"How so?"

"He drove into a supermarket."

That was all the policemen needed. One of them pulled out a pair of handcuffs, and the other one noticed Paul lying inside the van. "Is that guy yours?" he asked.

"Who, Paul? Yeah, yeah." Bradley climbed inside the river, opened the door, and pulled out Paul. "I'll, uh, go home now."

()()()

After he pulled into the driveway, Bradley walked inside his house and slumped on the couch. To his surprise, it wasn't even seven o' clock yet. "Well, that's going to be a fun work story." He thought aloud.

()()()

Thoughts? Comments? Any feedback is highly appreciated. AwkwardVulpix, over and out.


	6. In Which The Focus Shifts Away From Brad

The Life and Times of Bradley Watson

Chapter Six

Wherein The Focus Shifts Away From Bradley

One thing I'd like to note is that after this chapter is uploaded, I'll be taking a week's break. I'm not a machine; I need breaks too. I hope you can understand and react reasonably.

()()()

The next morning, Bradley was looking in the mirror, deep into his mismatched eyes. For the past few days, when he wasn't involved in excessively weird car chases or overly convoluted setups, he had been considering whether or not to ask Riley to make his eyes the same color. On the one hand, he would look like a normal person. On the other hand…he hadn't forgotten about that whole fiasco with the accents. Whatever decision he came to, he knew he'd have to word it _very_ carefully, or else something very bad would happen.

But this chapter isn't about Bradley. As you may have noticed, the title of the chapter is "Wherein the Focus Shifts Away From Bradley". Indeed, the focus will_ not_ be on Bradley, but rather, his…tenants.

I have a very good reason for this. I imagine that a good portion of you have been wondering what exactly goes on while Bradley is away at work. Well, today, you get your answer. Today, we will ignore Bradley Watson, and focus on the excessively powerful small animals.

Okay, maybe that wasn't specific enough in the context of Pokemon. How about the excessively powerful, _rare_ small animals?

No, wait, I forgot about Amelia. (See the ending of the eleventh movie) Uh…I appear to have written myself into a corner. Excuse me for a moment.

()()()

Ah, yes, I have it now. Today, we will ignore Bradley Watson, and instead focus on possibly the strangest pets/housemates of all time.

()()()

After Bradley had left, the group went about their morning routines. Shannon (The Manaphy, in case you had forgotten) had slept in, along with Riley; both of them were very heavy sleepers. Emily and Jon went to the kitchen to get something to eat, whereas Paul decided to watch television, or "the telly", as he was now forced to call it. Amelia…didn't seem to be around, oddly enough. For quite a while, none of them noticed.

Then, as Paul was watching television, he realized who was missing. This happened while he was mocking a rerun of Hannah Montana.

"Well, this is predictable as hell," he said. "Oh, look. The date and the concert are at the same time. Maybe you could, I don't know, reschedule the date? Oh, no, you're just going to run back and forth between the two, even though it's going to crash and burn on you like every other time this happened."

"If you hate it so much, why the bloody hell are you watching it?" Yelled Jon from the kitchen.

"Well, you know, to make fun of…" He suddenly remembered who was missing. "It. Say, have either of you seen Amelia?"

After thinking for a few seconds, Emily realized that no, she hadn't. "Come to think of it…no, I haven't seen her today."

"Well, where could she have gone off to, then?" He began looking around. First, he checked the basement. Telekinetically opening the door, he asked, "Amelia? You in there?" The only answer he got was several loud snores, courtesy of Riley and Shannon.

"Alright, then." He left that prospect, and started moving about the house, yelling "Amelia!" all the while.

After ten minutes of doing this with precisely no result whatsoever, Paul gave up on the inside of the house, and moved outside. Wouldn't you know it, Amelia had been out on the back porch this entire time.

"Hey, Amelia."

"Huh? Oh, hi, Paul."

"What are you doing out here?"

"Oh, you know, enjoying some fresh air, thinking about stuff."

"Such as?"

"Life, the universe, the metric system, that sort of thing. You missed a really nice sunrise, by the way."

"Eh, you've seen one sunrise, you've seen 'em all."

"Not Colorado ones."

"Well, why not?"

"I don't know, really. It was just…beautiful, very beautiful."

"I'll bet." Paul was rapidly losing interest in this conversation. "Listen, I'm going inside. You coming with?"

"Nah, I think I'll stay out here for a while."

"Alright, then." There was a long, awkward pause between the two.

"I'm, ah, going inside now." Paul opened the door and walked inside. "Well, that was certainly awkward."

"Aw, did you try hitting on her and it didn't work?" mocked Jon, who had just walked, excuse me, floated in.

"No!" Yelled Paul.

"Oh, stop deluding yourself." Jon floated down to Paul's level and crossed his arms. "You're into her, and you bloody well know it."

"No, I'm not!"

"Admit it!"

"No!"

"Come on!"

As Jon kept insisting, Paul stuck his fingers in his ears and started singing "Rule Britannia".

"Will you idiots knock it off!" Yelled Amelia from outside. "I can't hear my own thoughts over here.

"Sorry!" yelled Paul. He decided to stop with this silly nonsense (unfortunately, he didn't put on a colonel costume, since he lacked one at the time) and continue watching television.

()()()

"Oh, bloody hell no!" Said Paul mockingly. "My girlfriend is really a teen pop sensation, but she didn't tell me! Now I'm going to get all pissy at her, even though she could make me bloody rich! God, this show is bloody awful."

Suddenly, from outside, there came the sound of a small group of vans parking.

"Oh, damn, it's the press! Everybody hide!" yelled Paul. On cue, everybody rushed to a hiding place…except Riley and Shannon, who were still asleep, and Amelia, who was still outside.

Soon after, a small group of reporters crawled in through a window and began searching for the group. However, they were very good at hiding, and the reporters simply couldn't find them…until one of them, in Bradley's bedroom, glanced out of the window and saw Amelia on the back porch.

"I found one!" He yelled, giving the signal for the rest of them to move in on Amelia.

When the men burst through the back door, Amelia had no idea what to do. The men crowded around her, snapping their cameras and slamming her with questions; questions that would never get an answer. Amelia curled up into a tight ball, desperately hoping the reporters would go away. Alas, no such luck. As they continued yelling at her, they almost seemed to get quieter; of course, that was mostly due to her ears pounding quite violently.

Just then, her savior came. A wave of pure psychic energy came bursting forth, ruining the microphones and cameras. The reporters turned around to see Paul, who didn't look happy at all.

"Leave. Her. Alone." He said. The reporters stood their ground for a few seconds, staring at Paul. They cracked very quickly, and dashed around the house to their vans.

After Paul was quite sure that the men were gone, he rushed to Amelia and set his hand on her shoulder.

"You all right?"

"Y-yeah…I'll be fine. Don't worry about me."

"So…are you coming inside now?"

"Yeah. I think I've had enough fresh air for today." Amelia slowly got to her feet, and both of them walked inside.

Jon greeted them…sort of. "I told you."

"Shut up, Jon."

In the meantime, Riley and Shannon had finally woken up, and were just now getting to the top of the stairs. Riley opened the door, and Shannon asked, "What did we miss?"

"Nothing." Paul lied.

"Oh, you know what happened." Jon teased.

"Shut UP, Jon!" Yelled Paul.

"Hey, come on, now, you know I'm only teasing you!"

"Well, knock it off, then!"

"Oh, you're no fun."

With that out of the way, Paul and Amelia went to mock bad television shows.

()()()

Moving on from those two, we will now focus on Riley and Emily, who were discussing something in the kitchen.

"So, why exactly _did_ you make us British?" Asked Emily, who was still confused about that point.

"Well, he said English, and that was the first thing I thought of…I guess I need to work on that a little more."

"Could you maybe fix it?"

"Possibly. But I could end up making us all speak Japanese or something. I'd recommend keeping it the way it is."

"Oh. Well, I'll keep it, then. You getting hungry at all?"

"No, I don't really get hungry."

"I'll just make myself a sandwich, then."

()()()

_Several Minutes Later_

"How in the BLOODY hell do you start a fire making a sandwich?" Yelled John. Indeed, Emily had somehow managed to cause a fire while she was making her sandwich. Luckily, Paul was able to contain it before it caused any serious damage.

"I mean, if you were using the stove, that I could understand! But you were making a sandwich! How is that even _possible_!"

"Stop harping on it! At least the house ain't a pile of ashes!"

"Emily's right," said Amelia, "All that matters is that we're all okay. Lets just do what we were doing and hope Bradley doesn't notice."

The rest of them agreed and went about their business, ignoring the lingering smell of smoke.

()()()

Several hours later, Bradley got back home.

"I'm home, guys. Anything interesting happen?"

"Uh…" Paul was thinking of an appropriate lie, but Bradley interrupted him.

"Say…do I smell smoke?"

()()()

Well, there you go. See you all in two weeks! Bye!


	7. In Which Bradley Gets an Unexpected Visi

The Life and Times of Bradley Watson

Chapter Seven

In Which Bradley Gets A Visitor

Back from his two-week break, iiiiit's… AwkwardVulpix! (Canned cheering) Yes, folks, it's great to be back after all of two weeks of sabbatical. So sit back, relax, and enjoy the show!

()()()

Tokyo, Japan

Nintendo Headquarters

Satoshi Tajiri's Office

Satoshi Tajiri is famous for one reason above all: Pokemon. Undoubtedly one of the most popular video game series of all time, and the sole reason any of you are reading these RGB pixels that make up abstract symbols to represent thoughts and emotions right now. However, he can get a little…obsessed with his work, i.e., it isn't unheard of for him to work 24-hour days.

Naturally, he generally came to work very early, and this fine day was no different. Let's catch up with him now, shall we?

While I was wasting time talking about the abstract concept of reading and Satoshi Tajiri's work habits, he was already heading for his office. In fact, he was right in front of it.

He rushed inside, not bothering to close the door behind him, and logged onto his computer. He paused for a moment to admire his wallpaper, a massive collage of every single Pokemon, before something in the corner of the screen caught his eye: an alert for an e-mail from Shigeru Miyamoto. Assuming it was company business, he opened it. But instead of some sort of memo, like he had expected, it was just a short message: "I think you need to see this", followed by a link to the Denver News website. Now, he was just curious, so he clicked the link.

When the page loaded, he was so shocked that he had to grab onto his desk, for fear of becoming disoriented and falling out of his chair. Not quite believing what he was seeing, he hit the refresh button. Still there. He hit it again. Still there. He slapped himself across the face. Still there. He opened his email and started a new message, to one "Bradley Watson".

()()()

Several hours later (In America) Bradley Watson walked into his humble cubicle, still wondering how one would start a fire whilst making a sandwich. He logged on and decided to check his e-mail before working on the Conoway Project.

"Let's see…" He logged on and waited for it to load. There was one from Mr. Ruthers about the Conoway Project, one from Steven (Which was undoubtedly some sort of stupid prank), and another from…

"That can't be right," thought Bradley. This message was apparently from Satoshi Tajiri, but he knew full well that something like Satoshi Tajiri sending him an email was impossible. It was obviously just another stupid prank from Steven. Just to humor him, he clicked it anyway. It said simply, "Please send pictures," followed by Satoshi Tajiri's email address. If this was a prank, it was certainly a very intricate one. Stupidly intricate, really. But there was still a chance.

He yelled, "Hey, Stanley, did you send me any e-mails yesterday?"

"Yeah. I sent you a Youtube link."

Well, that proved Steven sent him a link to one of those dumb screamer videos.

"Anything else?"

"No."

Well, that did it. This was most definitely an e-mail from none other than Satoshi Tajiri. If this guy wanted pictures, boy howdy, he'd get pictures of them, all right. All Bradley had to do was find his camera when he got home.

()()()

_Many hours later…_

"I'm home!" Yelled Bradley, walking in through the door. "Have any of you guys seen my camera?"

"Yeah," said Paul, "I think it's in the dresser in your room, third shelf from the bottom."

"Thanks!" Bradley said, running for his dresser. "Third from the top…" He checked, and the camera was indeed in the third shelf of the dresser. Bradley, ignoring the fact of a camera ending up in his underwear drawer somehow, called the group to get on the couch.

"What do you need?" Asked Paul, walking in and holding a glass of water.

"I'm taking a photo."

"What for?" Paul asked, suspicion in his voice.

"Er…posterity." Bradley lied.

"Oh. Fine, then." Paul climbed onto the couch, and the others followed suit.

"Smile for the camera!"

()()()

Satoshi Tajiri's Office

Much later, Satoshi got another E-mail, containing the picture files. He opened the e-mail, and took a look. There they were, right in front of his eyes. Photographic proof that they existed in the same universe as him. A single tear rolled down his cheek. He closed the window and started looking for flights to Denver, abandoning all pretense and just going straight to the source.

()()()

_Two days later…_

"Bye, Ethel." Said Bradley. It had been another long day at work, and Bradley was just about ready to go home.

"Good bye, Bradley. Somebody over there has been waiting for you all afternoon." She pointed to a man sitting down and reading a newspaper.

"Hello, sir?"

"Hello, Bradley. This is a very interesting story."

"What?"

"A man named Dennis Moore was arrested for trying to rob a flower shop today. He held the cashier at gunpoint and demanded a thousand dollars and a bouquet of lupins. He later claimed he was going to give it to the poor."

"Huh. That is interesting."

"Oh, now this is _really_ interesting. Apparently, some guy ended up with real live Pokemon in his house, somehow!"

Bradley tensed up. "Oh, really?"

"Yeah. It says here, he even met Satoshi Tajiri himself."

"I did-I mean, he did?"

"Yes." The man lowered his paper, revealing who he was. "Just now, in fact."

"Holy…" Bradley stumbled backwards, his breath stuck in his throat.

"Hello." Satoshi stood up and bowed, whereas Bradley made do with a slight nod. Thoughts were racing around his head like mad.

"You're probably very surprised to see me. Well, let me tell you, I was certainly surprised when I saw those pictures!" Satoshi chuckled to himself, but stopped when he realized Bradley was still staring blankly at him.

"Um, anyway, I was wondering…I came all this way for a very particular reason. I would like to see them in person."

Bradley muttered some vague gibberish, and stumbled to Ethel's desk. "I'll be going now, Ethel."

()()()

"Oh my God," Bradley thought, opening the door. "Satoshi Tajiri is in my house. Oh my God, this can't really be happening."

"Nice place." Said Satoshi, walking in. Conveniently, Paul was right there, watching a _Friends_ rerun.

"Who's this?" He asked, not moving his eyes from the set.

"This…ah…is…Satoshi…" Bradley had forgotten his last name.

"Tajiri." He finished. "You are Victini, I assume?"

"Yeah, but most people call me Paul." He was still focused on the screen, never diverting his eyes.

And now, the current thought processes of the three people in the room.

Bradley: (Vague nonsense about Satoshi Tajiri being in his house)

Satoshi: (Similarly vague nonsense about a Victini being right in front of his eyes and watching Friends)

Paul: (I wish these idiots would leave so I could watch my show)

With that done, back to the plot.

"I am honored to be able to speak to you."

"Bradley?" Asked Paul.

"Yes?" Bradley wheeled around, having been resting his head on the door.

"Who _is_ this nutjob?"

Bradley immediately clenched up his jaw at first hearing of the insult towards the great Satoshi Tajiri.

"Well?" Satoshi turned towards Bradley. "Aren't you going to tell him who this nutjob is?"

"Uh, Paul, this is Satoshi Tajiri. He created you."

This most certainly bewildered Paul; enough, in fact, that he muted the TV and turned his head to the man that apparently created him.

"Huh. You know, I always Arceus would be taller than that. And a lot more…you know, _godly._"

Satoshi began laughing. "You're right, actually," he said, in between his chuckles. "If I were you, I wouldn't believe me either!" He stopped laughing and turned to Bradley. "Would you mind if I asked you a few questions?"

"Uh, no, not at all." This revelation, that Satoshi Tajiri wanted to interview him, was so shocking that Bradley literally passed out.

"Uh, will he be okay?"

"Ah, I'm sure he'll be fine."

()()()

"Bradley?" Asked a voice. "Bradley? Come on, wake up. Bradley?" A hand slapped across his face, waking him with a jolt. "Wha-what happened?"

"Oh, finally, you're awake." The source of the voice was, in fact, Emily.

"Oh, jeez, Emily. I had this crazy dream that Satoshi…" He glanced to his left, and saw that Satoshi was sitting at a desk, writing something down. "Okay, it _wasn't_ a dream."

"Oh, you're awake? I hadn't noticed." Satoshi gestured towards his work, saying, "I was just toying with some code. So, can I ask you some questions?"

"Ah, uh, sure, um…"

"So, I noticed that they all speak English. Did they do that already, or did you…"

"I asked Riley."

"The Jirachi, I assume?"

"Yeah. But he messed it up. I said, 'Could you make them speak English', and he thought I meant _British _English."

"Fascinating. So, what are they like?"

"Well…"

()()()

_A While Later…_

"Goodbye, Bradley!"

"Bye. Oh, wait before you go…"

"What?" Satoshi said, turning around.

"That four-sixteen parameter on page three should be a four-_fifteen_ parameter."

"Really?" He checked page three and sure enough, Bradley was right. The parameter was incorrect.

"I'm not sure how I missed that." His business complete, he left for his car.

As Satoshi drove off, Bradley kept the door open. When he was well out of sight, he slammed the door shut and yelled, "Did those past few hours _really_ just happen?"

"Sure did, mate." Said Paul. Right now, he was watching a _Two and a Half Men_ marathon. "I don't know what the big deal is."

"Wha…buh…guh…THAT'S SATOSHI TAJIRI! HE CREATED YOU!"

"Prove it."

"Alright, I'll prove it." Bradley ran to his computer and googled Satoshi Tajiri. The first result was his Wikipedia page.

"Okay, Paul, here's your proof!" He clicked the link, bringing up the page.

After Paul checked it over, he shook his head. "No, no, no."

"Oh, what?"

"That's Wikipedia! Do you know how much false information they have on there?"

"Oh, for the love of…"

"I'm just kidding, I believe you. But what I find odd is that all this time, my creator, my god, has been some Japanese nerd, with autism, no less!"

"Yeah…"

()()()

Damned late uploads! I WILL HAVE MY REVENGE ON THEE! Seriously, though, I'm_ really_ sorry about the late upload. Hopefully I can make it up to you by having the next one on Saturday. Until then, AwkwardVulpix, over and out.


	8. In Which Riley Makes a Horrible Mistake

The Life and Times of Bradley Watson

Chapter 8

Wherein Riley Makes a Horrible Mistake

(Or: Wherein There is a Problem)

()()()

"All right," said Jon. "Here's the plan, Emily."

Emily and Jon were floating by the kitchen door, waiting to pull a prank on Riley.

"Riley always wakes up at about this time, right? And he's always really hungry. So, when he comes in the kitchen, we jump out and scare the crap out of him!"

They laughed aloud at their ingeniousness.

"Sh! Here he comes!"

They pressed their backs to the wall as hard as they could. When Riley floated in, they leapt out and screamed, "SURPRISE!"

The effect was so startling that Riley accidentally allowed a stream of high-powered energy directly towards Paul, who was, of course, watching TV. Immediately upon collision with him, the beam went to the television. Moments later he was gone.

"Paul?"

A voice came from the television. "Where am I?" The voice was Paul's.

Jon, Emily, and Riley floated to the TV. What they saw was unbelievable. Paul was standing in the middle of the living room from Hannah Montana. He was inside the show itself.

"Riley?" He said, very calmly?

"Y-yes?" Said Riley, in a very meek way.

"WHAT THE BLOODY HELL JUST HAPPENED!" Paul screamed, at the top of his lungs.

"Uh, I guess I, uh, accidentally put you inside the telly."

"Oh, is that it?"

"So…you're not mad at me or anything?"

"OF COURSE I'M BLOODY WELL MAD AT YOU! GET ME OUT OF THIS!"

"A-all right! I'll try to think of something. Just…don't touch anything."

"I'll touch whatever I damn well please!" He said, walking over to a chair. Ignoring Riley's protests and pleas, he attempted to grab onto it. The key word being attempted, since his hand just phased right through it.

"What?" He said, staring at his apparently nonexistent hand.

"If I may interject," said Emily, "I think that since you're not part of the plot, you can't interact with anything. You're there, but you can't touch anything. You're invisible."

"Oh, that's great. I'm trapped in telly land and I can't do anything fun. At least turn it to something interesting."

Riley picked up the remote. "All right, how does this thing work?" He started pressing random buttons, sending Paul through several different channels and modes.

"Stop…Pressing…buttons!" He said, flipping through _Friends, Sesame Street,_ and _Scrubs_ in between words.

"Sorry!" He stopped pressing buttons, and Paul ended up in _Fishing with Billy Bob._

"Okay, listen to me carefully. You see those numbers?"

"Yeah?"

"Put in thirty-one."

"Okay." Riley put in the number, sending Paul to a new episode of _Generator Rex._

"Sweet! I love this show!"

"This looks…stupid." Said Jon.

"Excuse me?" Paul turned around, glaring.

"I said it looks stupid. What the hell is all of that junk coming out of his back?"

"Nanites."

"What the bloody hell is a nanite?"

"It's like a…why do you care? Listen, can you just get me out of here?"

"Okay, I'll try to think of something. Just…wait there, all right?"

()()()

"Okay, I think I have it now." Said Riley.

"If you don't get it this time, I will kill you when you finally_ do_."

"Yeah, threatening me is going to make me so much more willing to help you. Okay, three…two…one…"

A bright ray of energy erupted from his body, connecting to the TV in an instant. When the resulting smoke cleared, Paul was, in fact, standing in front of the television…or at least, the top half.

"I believe that's the third time you've done that, Riley."

"Don't worry, I've figured it out. Okay, here goes!" Another bolt of light erupted from him, connecting with Paul's top half and the television. Seconds later, Paul was standing there. However, something very important was missing: his ears.

"Riley, what's wrong with this picture?"

"Uh…I can fix that, don't worry!"

"Get away from me! You know, for a wish granter, you really suck at it."

That was most certainly the wrong thing to say. "What did you just say?"

"I said you suck at granting wishes!"

"That's it!" In his anger, Riley accidentally let loose _another_ beam of energy. It hit Paul, and believe it or not, he got his ears back.

"Wha…my ears are back! You did something right for a change!"

"I did? I mean, of course I did!"

However, although he did get Paul's ears back onto his body, he ended up doing something that would make that fact completely null: teleport the entire living room into the TV.

"See, with practice, you could really…where are we?" Paul had, by chance, glanced to the left.

"Oh…that's not good."

"Wait, what time is it?" Paul glanced at the clock. "Oh, bloody hell! Bradley's gonna be home in a few minutes!"

Paul was right, but he was off by a factor of a few minutes. Bradley pulled into the driveway, not noticing that the living room was missing; Riley hadn't moved the outside walls, just the inside.

"I'm home, guys…" Bradley opened the door. "WHAT THE HELL? WHERE'S THE…HUH?"

"Bradley, I can explain!" Yelled Riley from the television.

"Riley, WHAT THE HELL DID YOU DO?"

"I created an alternate dimension that now contains your living room. And that dimension is contained entirely in your television set."

"Get it out. NOW."

"Okay, let's see." Riley closed his eyes and started focusing his energy.

"Bradley, you might want to leave." Warned Paul. Realizing what Riley could potentially do to him, he ducked inside the kitchen, and just in time, too, for that was when he released the powerful beam of energy. When Bradley got back up, he saw that the living room was returned, along with Paul and Riley.

"Finally, we're out of that mess."

"Care to explain what happened, Riley?" Bradley had just walked back into the room.

"Oh, uh…okay, Jon and Emily were hiding in the kitchen to scare me because they knew I always came into the kitchen at about that time, and it was so startling that I accidentally put Paul into the telly. I kept trying to fix it, but I also kept getting it wrong, and eventually Paul said I sucked at granting wishes,"

"Well, you do."

"So I got pissed at him, and I put the living room into the telly along with us." Riley took a deep breath. "That's what happened."

"Okay then. If this happens again…try to get it right the _first_ time. I'd really rather not have things from various TV shows in my house."

"I-it won't happen again, Bradley. I swear!"

"Good."

()()()

_Later that evening…_

Bradley flipped open the phone book and searched for a number he needed. Unbeknownst to him, Paul was walking by that same moment. He found the number, and dialed it in.

"Hello, exterminator? I have a really bad infestation…"

Paul had heard enough, or so he thought. He ran to the basement and woke everybody up.

"Guys? We have a problem."

"How important is it?" Asked Shannon in an extremely groggy manner.

"I think Bradley wants us dead."

Every body gasped.

"D-dead?" Emily asked.

"Yeah, listen…"

()()()

Oh, this ought to be fun. The next chapter will be split up into three parts, to make up for the shortness of this one. Anyway, AwkwardVulpix, over and out.


	9. In Which Paul Screws it All Up

The Life and Times of Bradley Watson

Chapter Nine (Part One of Three)

In Which Paul Screws it All Up

()()()

Greetings viewers, blah, blah, blah. You know the drill, read, review, leave a dare for once. Here's the next chapter.

()()()

"Okay, here's the plan," Said Paul. "After significant research,"

"You stood by the doorway for five seconds." Interrupted Amelia.

"Shut up. Anyway, the exterminator will be coming at around five o'clock, so we need to be ready."

"What I say we do," stated Shannon, "Is jack his car and drive out when the exterminator gets here."

"Why?"

"Well, if he's going to try and bleedin' _kill_ us, we shouldn't really care about his car now, should we?"

"I guess not. Alright, so at four-fifty, we'll just…"

()()()

At five exactly, a truck with a cartoonishly large mosquito on the top of it pulled up in front of Bradley's house. The door opened, and an overweight bearded man in a jumpsuit stepped out.

Said exterminator, named John Murphy, walked to Bradley's front door and rang the doorbell. What he didn't know was that this gave the signal for the group, hiding in Bradley's car, to start enacting plan "Get the bloody hell out of here before Bradley kills us." (Not a very creative group, are they?)

Very soon after he rang the doorbell, Bradley opened the door; fast enough to make John think he'd been waiting by the door.

"Were you…were you waiting by the door, just now?" He asked, in a broad Texan accent.

"Yes."

"…Well, alright then. Where are the little bastards?"

"They've been here for a while now…"

()()()

While Bradley and John were having this conversation, the first phase of plan "G.T.B.H.O.O.H.B.B.K.U" was already being completed. Paul had decided the best way to drive was for him to handle the wheel, while Amelia would handle the pedals. Meanwhile, Riley would take the stick shift.

"Wait, I think the exterminator's here! Here goes nothing!" He telekinetically turned the key, forcing the engine to roar to life.

()()()

"Yeah, you _are_ that guy on the news!"

"Yes, I am." Bradley sighed. "Now that we have that out of the way, could you take care of it?"

"Well, sure I…" A loud engine noise from the garage interrupted him.

"What in the…" Bradley began saying, before John stopped him.

"I've seen it before. The roaches unionize and take over your stuff."

"What the hell are you talking about?"

"Dallas, '85. I have the news story in my van, if you want to see."

"Uh, no, thank you, that's fine…"

John, not listening to Bradley's protests, walked over to his van anyway. When he opened the door, Bradley's garage door opened, seemingly on its own. He ignored it, and started ruffling around papers, searching for the elusive copy. However, he was unable to find it. Why, you may ask? Because Riley turned off the parking brake and sent Bradley's car careening towards John's van. He leapt out of the way before his body got pancaked, but it was actually unnecessary seeing as Paul was able to stop the car before it hit anything.

"Riley!"

"Sorry!"

Bradley yelled, "What the hell are you doing with my car?"

"GUN IT!" Screamed Paul, cueing Amelia to step on the gas pedal. The car screamed away, leaving skid marks (and broken fence) in its wake.

"Well…I ain't never seen _that_ before."

"Can I borrow this?" asked Bradley, gesturing towards the van.

"I'll drive, you just wait right here. I'll have 'em back in jiffy!"

He climbed into his van and drove off, leaving Bradley to wonder what was going on.

()()()  
"Ha!" Exclaimed Paul. "Right showed that loser who's boss around here!"

"Uh…Paul?" Said Emily, who was waiting in the back of the car.

"I'll bet he's sorry he ever tried to mess with _us!_"

"Paul?" Asked Emily again.

"In fact, he's probably…"

"PAUL!"

"What?"

"The exterminator's following us."

"What?" He glanced at the wing mirror and saw that yes, John Murphy was trailing them.

"STEP ON IT!" He yelled to Amelia.

"I'm right here, you don't need to yell."

"Well, this is important!"

"Say it nicely first."

"Oh, for the love of…step on it, will you, please?"

"Thank you." Amelia pressed down further on the gas pedal, rocketing them forward…towards a newspaper stand. In fact, it was the same stand that Jonathan Wentworth ran over a few days ago. It even had the same person manning it. To complete the coincidence, Paul was about to destroy it. Thankfully he noticed in time, and swerved. He didn't harm a single sheet of paper. The same could not be said for John Murphy, who not only destroyed the papers, but also removed part of the stand. The man in the stand ignored it and turned the page, silently cursing his poor luck.

Meanwhile, John was still chasing after Paul, not giving up.

"Come on, give up already! Oh, hey the paper." Some of the papers had gotten onto his windshield. He just noticed the sports page.

"Holy…the Cubs _won_? How in the hell did they do…" His confusion was short lived however, as he drove right through a gate to a construction site.

"Sh…!" he began. And only began, for he very quickly ran into the fencing, this time stopping him, and the engine.

"God damn it!" he screamed, climbing out of the door. He kicked the tire, to no effect. A few seconds later, his airbag deployed.

"God _damn_ it!"

()()()

Meanwhile, Paul and the others were making good time towards the Utah border.

"I think we lost him." Said Emily.

"Finally!" Said Paul. "Some people are just way too persistent."

"So…now what?" Asked Amelia.

"I guess we just drive."

()()()

_Several Hours Later…_

John Murphy pulled up his van in Bradley's driveway.

"Hey, you!" he yelled, opening the door.

"Did you get them?" Bradley asked, not wasting time with pleasantries.

"Uh…no, I didn't. Sorry."

"Oh." Bradley said disappointedly.

"So, about those roaches!" John said, pulling out a long tube designed to shoot out deadly gas.

()()()

Happy Halloween, everybody! AwkwardVulpix, over and out. (I apologize for the shortness of this chapter. I swear that the next one will be much longer.)


	10. In Which Paul Screws it All Up Part Two

And Now For Something Completely Different…

It's…

(Liberty Bell March starts playing)

The Life and Times of Bradley Watson

Chapter (Record stops) Wait, this isn't right at all. Try again!

The Life and Times of Bradley Watson

Chapter Nine, Part Two

In Which Something Important Happens

(Or: In which there are like, a million references to Monty Python)

()()()

No, the something important is not the Monty Python references. Speaking of which, the violin sheet music for the theme song, (Liberty Bell March by John Philip Sousa) is currently inside my house. I have played it. That is awesome in a million different ways.

()()()

The very next day, Bradley was incredibly distraught. The group, the only people that had ever stayed in his house for more than a week, were gone. He couldn't imagine why they had left, but at the same time, he could easily imagine it. He was boring. He was a loser. He hadn't done anything for them. They had no reason to stay.

"Damn it." It was almost time for him to go to work, but he could hardly think about work in between blaming himself for this.

()()()

Meanwhile, Paul and the group had already made their way to Salt Lake City, Utah. Not only that, but through Riley and Emily's (Okay, mostly Emily's) combined efforts, they had human disguises, so they wouldn't stand out in a crowd.

By now, you may be asking, "What are they wearing?" Well, dear reader…I'm a lazy arse, so I'll just say that their clothes were the same color as their original fur. However, a few of them had some other form of accessory. Shannon had large braids (To match up with those whip things), Riley had a _very_ silly looking hat (The equivalent of that silly looking whatever-it-is), and Amelia gained large earmuffs (Do I need to explain everything to you morons?)

"All right, now what?" Asked Paul.

"Huh?" Said Amelia, who was rudely awakened by Paul's query.

"Now what should we do?"

"What time is it?" She checked the radio clock, confirming it as seven o' clock. "Just five more minu…" She never finished the sentence, because she went right back to sleep.

"Amelia!" Paul yelled.

"Officer!" Amelia shouted, jolting awake. "That horse wasn't mine!"

"…I'm going to pretend you didn't say that and ask you a question."

"What?"

"I wanted to know where we should go next."

"Oh."

About this time, Emily was waking up. Well, sort of; she was still half asleep mumbling something in her sleep. It seemed to be some sort of children's story.

"One day," it began, "Ricky the magic pixie went to visit Daisy Bumble in her tumble-down cottage and found her in the bedroom." Okay, this is starting to get somewhat questionable.

"Roughly, he grabbed her heavy shoulders and put her on the bed." Yeah, I see where this is going, and I feel I have an obligation to stop it.

Okay, maybe a bit more for the sake of comedy.

"He ripped off her shirt and started…"

"Emily!" Paul yelled.

"Huh?" Emily was now fully awake.

"What the bloody hell is wrong with you!" He interrogated.

"What are you talking about?"

"Does the phrase 'Ricky the magic pixie' ring any bells?"

"Oh. That…uh…It's no fault of mine what Bradley keeps in his bedroom!"

"Oh, that's sick."

"What, Monty Python?"

"Oh, I thought you meant…never mind. There's a gas station up ahead, I'll look for some pamphlets."

()()()

At the same time this was going on, Bradley was just getting into his cubicle. However, just as he was sitting down, Mr. Ruthers interrupted him.

"Bradley?" He asked.

"What?" Bradley asked, sounding annoyed.

"In light of your excellent performance as of late, I'd like to congratulate you with…a promotion."

"Yeah, that's great…promotion? What kind of promotion?"

"Managerial stand-in. If, for some reason, I can't make it to work, you are the one who will take up the duties in my stead."

"Oh…wow, uh, thank you, Mr. Ruthers."

"You're quite welcome, Bradley. You deserve it."

He started to walk away, but he realized something before he got very far at all.

"Say, Bradley, you seem awfully…glum about something. What's wrong?"

This really was not something Bradley wanted to discuss. "They, uh…they ran away, sir."

"Wha…why, that's awful! Why would they do such a thing?"

"I…don't know, sir."

"Well, anyway," Mr. Ruthers continued, clasping his hands together, "I'd also like to allow you to test out our latest product: the cubicle door. Basically, it allows the cubicle to become more like an office. If we can get it to work, along with the cubicle roof, we could cut down on transmission of diseases quite easily!"

"That's…fascinating."

"Wonderful! It'll be installed very soon, Bradley! And…I'm very sorry about your loss. I know what it's like to lose somebody close to you as well."

"Oh boy…" Bradley had been through this before; Mr. Ruthers blabbing out some old life story that didn't relate to anything.

"Several years ago, I was…"

()()()

"All right, what do we got here?" Asked Paul. He had, of course, gone into the gas station (after a particularly slipshod parking job) and was looking at a rack of brochures resting on a counter. Right next to him was a man talking to the cashier, apparently not from America.

"I will not buy this record, it is scratched."

"…What?" asked the bewildered cashier.

"I will not buy this record, it is scratched."

"I-I don't understand…"

"My nipples explode with delight!"

"Right then," said Paul. "We've got…the Grand Canyon? That sounds interesting." He grabbed the pamphlet, but several things were working against him:

One: A human body is significantly different from his normal body, meaning his center of gravity was in a completely different spot.

Two: He was tired, and not exactly at full thought capacity.

Finally: He wasn't used to pulling brochures out of racks.

All this added up to him pulling out the pamphlet, and sending the rest of the rack crashing to the ground. Everybody else in the mart began staring at him.

"Uh…pamphlet racks work a lot differently in Britain, let me tell you!" He could tell this excuse wasn't working, and dashed out of the station, only to find a policeman writing a ticket. Amelia was arguing with him.

"Hey, copper, what's going on here?"

"I don't know how it works in London, but here, you're not allowed to park on the sidewalk."

"Oh, well you see…" He reached out his hand, but noticed some peach-colored fur on it. He gasped, and shoved it behind his back before the cop saw it.

"See, if you park where you're not supposed to, I have no choice but to write you a ticket."

"I understand completely, officer." Then he felt a strange tingling sensation across his body. When he realized what that entailed…

"Oh no." Not wanting the cop to figure out what was going on, he ran back into the mart.

"Hey, where are you going?" The cop chased after him, but it was too late. The wish had worn off. Paul had gone back to normal.

Everybody in the mart stared at him for a few seconds, before screaming and rushing for the door, including the cop.

"Was it something I said?" Paul asked.

Those in the car were noticing the effects, too. In the next minute, they were all back to normal.

Paul jumped in the car through the open window and yelled, "Step on it!" To Amelia, now back in the pedals.

"Right!" She hit the gas (again) and zoomed off, the policeman in hot pursuit on his motorcycle.

()()()

_Meanwhile…_

"So I was trying to resuscitate the porcupine with a cactus stuck to my spine, and somebody is trying to sell me a dead parrot and a packet of larch seeds…" continued Mr. Ruthers, in Long Rambling Story #142.

"Gah!" Bradley was trying to work, but Mr. Ruthers' incredibly boring story was making it rather difficult. Neither of them had any idea of the goings-on in Utah.

()()()

"This is the police! Pull over!"

"If you touch the brake, Amelia, I'll kick your arse!" Shouted Paul, desperately steering away from pedestrians (clearly, he wasn't interested in those extra thousand points).  
"Thanks for the encouragement," Amelia said dryly.

"Just put the pedal to the medal and stop whining!"

"You know, Paul, with you being an arse all the time, I can't say I really want to put the 'pedal to the metal', as you put it."

"Will you just shut the f…" His curse was short lived, however. He was coming up to a canyon. Not the Grand Canyon, obviously, but it was still fairly deep. His almost-f bomb simply degenerated into a random scream. He released the wheel, sending the car into a spinout. Nobody, not even I, is exactly sure what happened next. The closest approximation is that Amelia ended up falling out of the car somehow. Perhaps she jumped out so Emily could right the car. Perhaps she fell out accidentally. The point is, she fell out somehow. Because of this, Emily was able to right the car, and Paul continued driving. However, he felt something was missing…

"Where's Amelia?" he asked, the hint of fear in his voice.

Everyone else looked around, not seeing her anywhere.

"Oh…oh, God no…AMELIA!"

()()()

"And that's how I lost my saguaro cactus."

By this time, Bradley was asleep completely.

"Bradley? Oh, not again."

()()()

Late upload! Sort of! This is none other than AwkwardVulpix, over and out.

()()()

Figure Three: The Larch.

()()()

EPILOGUE

At the bottom of a particular canyon in Utah, a dog-like creature slowly got to her feet, groaning. How far had she fallen? That didn't really matter. She just wanted to go home.


	11. In Which Paul Screws it All Up Part Thre

The Life and Times of Bradley Watson

Chapter Nine, Part 3

In Which Paul Screws it All Up

And now, the "thrilling" "conclusion"!

Wait, I used that joke already.

Damn.

()()()

_Denver, Colorado_

_ 8:00 AM_

"Okay, cubicle door test number one, in progress." Said Bradley, filming the initial test of the cubicle door.

"Opening…now." He gripped the handle, turned it, and pulled outwards. Almost instantly, the screws in the door, which were very weak, detached from the rest of the frame, causing the door to, quite simply, fall out.

After a pause, Bradley continued speaking. "Initial testing phase reveals that the screws are cheap knockoffs."

"Bradley!" Yelled Mr. Ruthers, running towards the scene. "What's going on here?"

"Testing. I've determined that the screws you've decided to use are absolutely useless."

"Oh…could you let go of that, then?"

Bradley did, and it immediately crashed to the floor.

"That's…not what I meant, Bradley. Anyway, I wanted to tell you that I'll be leaving in a few minutes, and as secondary manager, you'll be controlling the office."

"What are you leaving for?"

"Oh…business things, nothing you need to worry about." This wasn't said in the most convincing of manners, so to speak.

"Sure…whatever you say, sir."

()()()

_Salt Lake City, Utah_

"Paul?" Asked Emily, still worrying about Paul. After all, Amelia had fallen out of the car and died…or so they thought.

"Yes. I'm fine. Leave me alone."

"O-okay. If you say so." She turned back around and looked out the window at the passing scenery.

"Listen…Paul…" She continued, just a few seconds later.

"SHUT THE HELL UP, EMILY!" Paul screamed, his voice filled with anger and rage.

Everybody else in the car just stared at him.

"Oh, what?" He said. Emily glanced around. "WHAT? WHAT THE HELL DO YOU MORONS WANT?"

"Paul!" Yelled Shannon. "Calm down, will you?

"Listen," He said, his voice dripping with sarcasm, "Amelia just died. I happen to have liked Amelia. I HAVE EVERY GOD DAMN RIGHT TO BE PISSED OFF!"

()()()

"So, just handle anything that comes up while I'm away, Bradley." This was the last instruction for Bradley, courtesy of Mr. Ruthers. The other instructions were "don't stab anybody with the paper cutter" and "if somebody lights the building on fire, don't use the guys in marketing to douse the flames".

Methinks I've been reading too much Dilbert lately. Anyway, after delivering this last bit of advice, Mr. Ruthers left for his "business trip", quotation marks fully intentional.

"Nice office," Bradley remarked to himself, sitting in the chair. However, nothing much was occurring that day, so Bradley amused himself by tapping out songs on the desk.

"Dum de dum…" That's about when he nodded off.

()()()

But what of Amelia? Well, since her head was fuzzy, to the point where she couldn't really walk so much as stumble in the vague direction of forward, she had no recollection of Bradley wanting to "murder" them. However, she could remember that her home was somewhere in Denver, and Denver was located to the east.

"I'm almost there, I'm almost there, I'm almost there…" she mumbled to herself, trying to force herself to move forward. "I'm almost there."

()()()

"This is absurd!" Yelled Paul, standing on a curb in the middle of nowhere. See, the rest of the group had gotten tired of his yelling and decided to forcibly remove him from the car and make him walk to his destination. "You can't do this!"

"Sorry," Said Emily, now driving the car, "But we are." She hit the gas, did a U-turn, and headed back to Denver.

Oh, I hadn't explained that. Silly me. See, through Emily and Riley's combined efforts…okay, mostly Emily's, they were able to read Bradley's mind from afar, and figure out that, no, he didn't want to kill them; he was just calling an exterminator, and Paul conveniently misunderstood the call. However, Paul didn't believe them, so they abandoned him at the side of the road.

"You're mad!" They wanted no more of this, so Emily, now driving, hit the gas (telekinetically, mind you) did a U-turn, and drove off into the distance.

"Bloody…what does that even mean, bloody?" Paul had been using this word quite a bit, but he had no idea what it meant. All he knew was that it was a British swear word.

"Screw it." He began flying towards his destination: Denver, Colorado.

()()()

Wait, wait, hold on a second. We've got at least…five different people running around here.

Amelia is stumbling towards Denver.

Bradley is asleep in Mr. Ruthers' office.

Mr. Ruthers is on a…business outing.

Emily, Riley, Jon, and Shannon are driving towards Denver.

Finally, Paul is flying towards Denver.

This is, undoubtedly, very confusing. Let's focus on Mr. Ruthers for a bit, shall we?

()()()

Oh…wow. I really didn't need, nor want, to see that.

()()()

Let's pretend that never happened, _ever._ Okay? Anyway, Amelia was making good time towards Denver, considering she was still moving in a drunken manner. In fact, she had already crossed the border. Only just, though. In fact, she was moving at such a rate that Emily and the remainder of the group were able to catch up to her within an hour.

"Amelia!" Yelled Emily, shocked beyond all compare to see her. She pulled over, and rolled down the window.

"Whozat?" Amelia mumbled, so vaguely that the word you just read is the only thing I could come up with to represent the sound she vocalized.

"You're okay!"

"I guess."

"Come on in!" She opened the door."

"Oh, all right." She still seemed drunk, but she got in the back seat anyway.

"Let's go home, guys."

"What about Paul?" Asked Shannon.

"Eh, he can rot for all I care." Said Jon.

()()()

He was not, however, to rot. He was at about one thousand feet above the ground, which wouldn't get him very far in Colorado, considering that by Utah standards, one thousand feet above the ground is a couple of feet underground in Denver. Mile high, remember. Anyway, he was making good time as well. Now, how far away is he from Bradley's house? Obviously, pretty far away. He wouldn't make it before Bradley got home. However, Messrs. Emily and company _would_. Assuming, of course, that Bradley woke up in time.

()()()

Speaking of Bradley, Stephen was about to play a prank on him. It was fairly simple, by his standards, but still damned effective: pouring a glass of cold water on his head. Of course, he removed the important stuff from the desk, as not to damage it.

He positioned the glass over Bradley's head, and…

"Stephen, if you pour that over me, I'm gonna pop you."

Bradley was awoken by Stephen moving the junk around.

"Oh, uh, Bradley! Uh…would you believe managerial initiation."

"I say you take that glass and stick it up your…"

"I'm back, Bradley!" Said Mr. Ruthers, opening the door.

"Mr. Ruthers!" Said Bradley. "How was your business outing?"

"Fine, fine. Stephen, why are you in my office? And holding a glass of water?"

"Oh, uh…" he quickly set it on the desk and ran out of the room.

"And why is all my stuff on the floor?"

"Blame Stephen!" Bradley yelled, before following suit and exiting the room.

()()()

_Hours later…_

"Home, sweet home." In the last few days, Bradley had been taking cabs (I was hoping you had figured that out already) so he was fairly surprised to see his car back in the driveway when his cab pulled up.

"What the…" He ran to the door, and was even more surprised to find it unlocked.

"What's going on here?" He opened the door. Lo and behold, the group, minus Paul, was all there.

"Finally!" Said Emily. "You're back!"

"Wha…but…_you're_ back?"

"Yeah. See, I was able to read your mind from afar, and I figured out that Paul was wrong."

"Say, where _is_ Paul?" Queried Bradley.

"Ah, he'll figure out he's wrong eventually." Said Amelia, not caring about that at all.

()()()

_A few miles away…_

"Shove me off, will they?" Grumbled Paul. "Well, I'll show 'em. I'll show 'em _ALL! _

()()()

And on that note, we end. AwkwardVulpix, over and out.

Leave a dare!


	12. In Which Paul Hatches a Plan

The Life and Times of Bradley Watson

Chapter Ten

In Which Paul Hatches a Plan

()()()

This time, the late upload was intentional. Have a merry Christmas, everybody!

()()()

"Shove me off, will they?" Said Paul, to nobody in particular but himself. "Oh, I'll show 'em. Oh, yeah, I'll show 'em."

His mind working at full speed, Paul began thinking about how he would exact his revenge. Perhaps hypnotize them and send them to the middle of rush-hour traffic? Spread toxic gas through the ventilation? Stab them in their sleep? No, that was boring. He would have to do something _far_ more creative than that.

Torture.

()()()

_The next day…_

"I guess Paul ain't coming back, then." Said Amelia, sitting on the couch, not doing much of anything. Emily was sitting next to her, not doing much of anything either.

"Eh, he was an arse anyway." She said.

"Emily!" Shouted Amelia, not at all pleased by Emily's insult.

"What?" She said defensively. "He was!"

"No, he wasn't! He was just…well, you know how he was, well, kind of, uh…" Before she could come up with a witty retort, somebody knocked on the door.

"Come in!" They shouted, not quite in unison.

The door opened, revealing Paul.

"You came back!" Said Amelia, overjoyed to have him back.

"Why the hell would any of you care? I thought you all hated me."

"What…no!" Said Amelia.

"Oh, don't play bleeding dumb. You all wanted to kick me out of there. Well, guess what, Amelia?"

"What?"

"I want to play a game." He clasped his hands, and Amelia gasped. In the next instant, a high-powered wave of psychic energy erupted from his body, knocking everything in the house out.

"Let's start." He headed to the basement, pulling along Emily and Amelia behind him, to begin preparing his trap.

()()()

_Five o' clock…_

"I'm home, guys!" yelled Bradley, walking into the door. "Guys? Hello?"

Suddenly, the door slammed shut behind him and all the lights turned off.

"What the hell…?"

His computer turned on, seemingly under it's own power. It was displaying a static picture of Billy the puppet, from the Saw movies.

"What the hell?"

Then, the computer began playing a sound file. "Hello, Bradley. I want to play a game."

"What?"

"Inside the basement are some of your closest friends. In fact, they're your only friends. Go there, and take this tape. When it's played, the games will begin."

The computer turned off.

"Oh…oh my god, you have to be kidding me." He began breathing heavily, and ran as fast as he could to the basement. However, on the way, he tripped over the coffee table, since he couldn't see in the darkness.

"Ow!" He got up, rubbing his leg, and walked to the basement door instead.

()()()

Having seen all the Saw movies, Bradley proceeded with maximum caution down the stairway. A flickering light turned on when he stepped on a certain step, revealing a tape recorder hanging from the ceiling. However, he knew full well what would happen when he pulled it away from the wall and played it. It would pull a hidden string, the light would turn on, a timer would start counting down, and some demented trap would activate. Instead, he simply ducked down and pressed the "play" button while the recorder was still hanging.

However, Paul was smarter than that. The string that the recorder was hanging from wasn't a string, but rather a wire, connected to the battery. When the play button was activated, a current would travel up the wire and activate the appropriate mechanisms.

"Hello, Bradley," the tape said, while the lights turned on. This in turn revealed the appropriate demented trap: Riley, Jon, Emily, Amelia, and Shannon were hooked up to drills. In front of them were buttons, with wires leading out of them into an unknown source.

"As you can see, I've set up a little test up for you. For years, you've been a loner. You've never gone out with a woman and gotten a second date. You hardly speak to anyone at work, let alone throughout the day. But about a week ago, six very special individuals entered your life, and changed it. Five of them are in front of you right now. It should be obvious that they care about you. The test is to see how much you care about them. Located in front of all of them is a button. If you press this button, one hundred and fifty thousand volts of electricity will course through your body, causing significant pain. However, pressing said button will prevent them from being killed by the drills hanging just above their heads. Oh, and one more thing. You can only save four of them. You must choose, out of these five, which one will die. You have five minutes to make your decision."

A digital timer on the opposite side of the room turned on, and began counting down from five minutes.

"Let the games begin," the tape ended.

4:50

"Oh…this isn't real. There's no way this can be real."

4:45

"Okay, Bradley. You can do this. Just press the button, and…" he pressed the button in front of Amelia, but he didn't get electrocuted at all. You see, the wire that Paul used (acquired from a dump) was really old, and broke while he was assembling the trap. In fact, none of the wires worked.

4:30

"What?" Bradley asked, confused as to why he wasn't electrocuted. Had he just not felt it? Were his nerves unable to register it?

However, Paul got one thing right: the drill fell away from its casing. Only problem: all the other drill did too. Paul is not exactly very good at construction, now, is he?

"What?" I'll stop displaying the time now, since at this point, it has no point.

()()()

Paul, watching from Bradley's room, was surprised at this as well.

"No!" He yelled, very loudly. In his rage, he accidentally blasted a hole through the window. This, obviously, was sufficiently loud to reveal his location to Bradley.

"Oh, damn it!" he yelled, realizing his horrible mistake. Losing all sense of rational thought, he ran out the door…and right into Bradley's legs.

"Bradley!" Paul yelled in shock.

"What the hell were you thinking!" Bradley screamed, before reaching down to grab Paul. Unfortunately, Paul was too quick, and dashed between Bradley's legs before he could do anything. Fortunately, Paul got cocky, and laughed, distracting him from the couch. He ran facefirst into the corner, and fell to the floor. Bradley lunged at him, but Paul was far too hardy to let something like ramming his nose into a couch stop him. He pushed his hands against the ground and telekinetically launched himself into the air, deftly avoiding Bradley's lunge, and forcing him to hit the couch. Bradley rolled to the side and clutched his head, screaming bloody murder, while Paul ran out the front door.

"Get back here!" Bradley yelled, ignoring his pain long enough to run out the door. He started looking around and saw an orange shape moving off to the left of the street. Bradley broke into a run and began chasing after him.

Paul, however, wasn't too excited about the prospect of getting captured, so he stopped himself and turned around. Bradley stopped as well, unsure of what was going on. Paul began raising himself into the air telekinetically.

"I wanted revenge, Bradley," Paul said, continually rising and rising. "And I'm going to bloody well get it!" He sent out a massive fireball, large enough to completely destroy Bradley. However, when faced with danger, the human brain does an interesting thing: its perception of time gets slower, i.e. bullet time. This is exactly what happened here. The fireball apparently moving slower, Bradley was able to jump out of harm's way before it hit the ground. When it hit, it scorched the bottom of his shoes, but he was none worse for the wear.

"Damn it!" yelled Paul, frustrated that his enemy was still alive. As Bradley got up, he prepared another fireball, and threw it at him. In his frustration, he missed, and Bradley was able to run away. All the fireball did was destroy an empty mailbox. Paul created another one, and threw it. This one was more accurate, but it was too slow, and it missed Bradley too.

"Hold still so I can kill you!" He yelled, flinging fireball after fireball.

"No!" Bradley yelled, keeping his great defiance up. This defiance was short lived, however, since he almost immediately slipped on some gravel. He instinctively threw his hands out in front of him, but this only served to knock him out when he hit the ground, from the force of his forearm hitting his forehead.

"Ha!" Paul exclaimed triumphantly, walking over to his body. "I got you now!" He raised his hands, preparing an extremely powerful ball of flame.

"Any last words?" He asked.

Bradley gave no answer.

"Hmph." Paul shrugged. "Suit yourself." This was it, then. Bradley was going to die. He sent the fireball towards Bradley, and…

()()()

Got you there, didn't I? I'm not J.K. Rowling. I'm not going to let the main character die just for cheap shock value. No, indeed, the flames stopped just before they hit Bradley.

"What? No!" Paul yelled. "Come on!" He began flapping his arms around wildly, trying in vain to get the fire to move.

"Sorry, Paul," Said Emily, standing on the nearby sidewalk. Well, okay, floating above the nearest sidewalk. But that running gag is getting old. Quite silly, actually. Very, very silly, indeed.

I'm stopping now.

Anyway, about Emily.

"Sorry, Paul. You ain't going to be killing him today, I'm afraid. Or at all, really. Okay, let me put it this way. Not now, and not ever, is Bradley going to kill you. What I mean by that is that not Bradley, and not ever, is now going to you kill. Anybody is going to kill nobody on this street."

In case you've never watched Monty Python, that's yet another reference to a sketch. While Emily was acting out this sketch, Paul prepared another sphere of fiery death.

"Shut up!" He yelled, blasting it towards her. Upon the apparent collision, it exploded spectacularly.

"Ha! That'll learn you."

"I doubt it," she said. When the smoke cleared, it revealed that she wasn't harmed at all, as she had simply created a telekinetic shield.

"Damn you!" Paul yelled, preparing another fireball.

"Cripes!"

As Paul sent it out, she did a midair backflip, deftly avoiding it, albeit singing her ears.

"Why can't any of you lot just bloody die!"

As Paul was throwing flames at Emily, Bradley awoke groggily.

"Uh…my head…" His sentence was interrupted by a flaming mailbox.

"Just! Bleeding! Die!" Paul yelled, firing blasts in between each word.

"Holy mother of…" Bradley said, before running off, away from the scene of violence.

()()()

_A few minutes later…_

Bradley, shocked by this recent turn of events, Bradley ran into somebody's house. Unfortunately, it was Steven's.

"Who's there?" He asked, walking down the stairs. His voice was muffled, since he still had his toothbrush in his mouth. (Steven goes to sleep very early.)

"Bradley!" He said, although it sounded more like…well, it still sounded like "Bradley," actually.

"Oh, damn it." Bradley said, irked by this development.

"Oh, don't worry, Bradley. What do you need? I'm always willing to help out a friend." Steven smiled, and it was as fake and artificial as his concern.

"Okay, even if you are lying, could you help me? Somebody's trying to kill me!"

Steven chuckled. "Who'd want to kill you?"

A loud noise came from outside the house.

Bradley pointed his thumb in that direction and said, "Him."

"What the hell was that, Bradley?"

"One of my, ah, pets."

"Oh, you mean those weird Japanese things?"

"Yeah, listen, we don't have much time!"

In fact, they had no time at all. Paul telekinetically disintegrated the doorway, sending a giant, albeit harmless, cloud of atoms in the general direction of Bradley and Steven.

"That's it, you're done!" Yelled Paul, murder in his eyes.

"Crap!" Bradley yelled. Okay, that's not what he yelled, but this is K+, so I need to keep it child friendly.

Bradley, along with Steven, immediately ran towards the driveway, as Steven had no garage.

"Get in the car!" Bradley yelled. Unfortunately, Steven had already gotten in, and locked the door behind him.

"Sorry, Bradley, it's every man for himself!"

"Why, you little…open the door!"

"No!"

They began yelling obscenities at each other, ignoring Paul completely. "How absolutely rude of them," Paul thought aloud.

"Open the door or I'll kick your ass!" shouted Bradley, becoming increasingly impatient.

"No!" Shouted Steven.

BOOM! Paul had thrown a large fireball at the car, destroying part of the door.

Bradley and Steven looked at each other for a few seconds. "Get in, you jackass!" Steven said finally.

Bradley jumped into the hole where once was door, and Steven drove off, Paul flinging fireballs after him.

()()()

_Modern Engineering_

Steven parked his smoldering car in the otherwise mostly empty parking lot, which was very quickly attacked by another fireball.

Bradley, recognizing danger, immediately leaped out of the car, Matrixing past yet another one of those Goddamn fireballs. He zoomed into the building, looking at the famed chandelier. Paul quickly followed suit, and seeing the chandelier for the first time.

"Whoa, nice candelabra." He thought to himself. Indeed, it was very nice. Unfortunately, it was a little _too _nice, if you know what I mean. The design of the support simply wasn't enough to support the weight of the glass.

"P-Paul? Come on, be rational here!" Bradley said, Paul inching ever closer to him.

"Sorry, there ain't no such thing as rationality." He prepared another fireball, but it was to be his last. The physical exertion he gave over the past few hours was simply too much. Or, to put it in the context of the games:

PAUL Fainted.

Ha, you were all thinking the chandelier would have something to do with it. I got you all again!

()()()

_Many months later…_

Bradley was just ready to go on stage, as the final piece of a dinner at Modern Engineering celebrating the premiere of his autobiography. In the past few months, Bradley had received significant royalties, both from the various news stories and his promotion. Several people were there, including Mr. Ruthers, a very reluctant Steven, Ethel, and that biker gang.

"You're on in five, Mr. Watson," An assistant said.

"Oh, thank you." Bradley promptly headed out onto the stage, along with his, uh, pets. They were all dressed for the occasion. However, you're probably wondering what became of Paul. Well, after he was taken to the hospital, he confessed to Bradley that his parents were violently killed in front of him when he was young. After that, he always had abandonment issues. However, with the appropriate therapy, he was soon back on his feet.

"Hello, ladies and gentlemen." Bradley said, picking up his book. "I hope you've had a nice evening, and as the final _piece de resistance, _you can find free copies of my book, _The Strange Life of Bradley Watson, by Bradley Watson_, in the lobby. Thank you, and have a good rest of the night." The audience applauded.

()()()

THE END

()()()

Yes, this is the final chapter. Thanks for your feedback, and expect an addition to Happy Tree Friends: The New Series sometime soon. This is AwkwardVulpix, over and out.


End file.
